What Truths the Light Will Show
by Boducky
Summary: It has been said that, when you are near death, your life flashes before your eyes. When V lies in the train station an important memory comes to mind. A possible explaination as to why he came to Larkhill. RATED M! MM SLASH WARNING!
1. Chapter 1

**What Truths the Light will Show**

_Disclaimer_: As per usual, I must reluctantly admit that I do not own any part of V for Vendetta in any way, shape or form.

**Chapter One**

"But I don't want you to die," her voice rasped hoarsely. Shadows crept into the edges of his vision, threatening to darken the world for good. Still, he clung to the sight of her young, beautiful face. It gave him joy; it made his heart ache with bittersweet feeling. Evey's heartfelt words gave him peace as he had never known.

"That is the most beautiful thing you could have given me," he replied, smiling beneath his mask.

This had been the moment his entire existence had been leading up to. His bomb was set, waiting to send a blazing symbol to the people of London. He had achieved his goal and killed all who had had a hand in creating him, in perpetrating horrors and of repressing the freedom of the people. In his soul, V had always known that he would die when this day had finally come, and he had been totally content with that knowledge. How odd that he should now want to stay, not for the sake of living in a new world, but for the sake of sparing the one he loved pain.

_There is no happy ending,_ he mused lethargically. _Surely, she could not have expected one._ Evey would survive his death, he knew. She had always been strong in a way, and now pain and rain had strengthened her further. She would do great things in the new England.

The pain slowly left his body, all sensation flowing away as his life left him. He had expected darkness, silence, oblivion. Like life, death is seldom as one expects it to be. It's amazing what truths the light will show…


	2. Chapter 2

**What Truths the Light will Show**

_Disclaimer_: As per usual, I must reluctantly admit that I do not own any part of V for Vendetta in any way, shape or form.

Author's Ravings: I have several chapters written already, and was considering just posting them one at a time and making people beg for more. Oh, the evilness of me! Then I realized that there really wasn't much to chapter one, and I had to give people a bit more to get them wanting more. So, without further ado, I bring you chapter two. I'll make you beg for the rest. g

**Chapter Two**

_vVv The Past vVv_

His mind drifted lazily as the sun shone through his closed eyelids, warming his face. He would have felt perfectly content were it not for the distant, nagging feeling that he should be doing something. Oh well, how important could it really be?

A jolt against his side made his eyes fly open. A surprised gasp escaped his lips. "Wake up already!" Wide blue eyes stared at him accusingly. "Mum says we're going to be late. She was already here a half hour ago and told you to get ready." The little girl crossed her arms and huffed in disapproval.

"Your mum came to wake me up. But since she's my sister, I don't have to listen to her." He grinned cheekily as he stretched and lazed in his armchair. His niece took in a lungful of air.

"Grandma!" she yelled. "Uncle Grant says he'll only listen to you!" The man chuckled and tousled her white-blond locks as he rose from the chair. He was already heading towards his suitcase when his mother's voice called up the stairs.

"Give me five minutes," he shouted back with a grin. Such was the way of life with his family. Whenever they had somewhere to go, someone always dithered until the last minute, there was shouting without anger, a rush to get out of the house and laughter when they inevitably arrived late. "You'd better go downstairs, unless you want to see your uncle naked," he joked.

"Ewwwww!" The young girl shot out of the room in an instant. Children were so fun to tease. It took him two minutes to find some clean clothes that looked half-decent together and to slip them on. He hastily washed his face and brushed his teeth. It wasn't worth bothering with his hair, partially because it was short and easy to maintain but mostly because he was rushing off to a family reunion and was seriously not trying to impress anyone. Heaven forbid that one of his cousins should suddenly develop an attraction towards him.

Grant thundered down the stairs two at a time, grinning impishly as his sister glared at him. "My god, are you 17? Come on, we're going to be late."

"No, I'm 27… like you were 5 years ago," he smirked. "Not everyone wants to be 17 forever, but I'm closer to it than you are, Claudia." She swatted him good-naturedly.

"I have to help mom get her baking into the van. Can you help Lizzy with her shoes?"

"I can do them myself!" a childish voice called indignantly. Grant knelt by the chair his nice was sitting on. Small pink Mary Jane shoes were on her tiny feet. They were unbuckled. Time to speed things up a bit.

"I challenge you to a shoe-buckling race! Do you want to take the left or right shoe?" Lizzy giggled at her uncle's absurdity. "This one!" she cried with joy.

"Very well," Grant took her left shoe in his hands. "On your mark… get set…" he looked around, pretending to be distracted.

"Uncle Grant," she huffed. He ignored her, pausing for a few moments more.

"GO!" Lizzy bent over her shoe, a look of intense concentration on her face. The buckles were in fact a bit difficult to fasten, but Grant made a show of fumbling a bit. He made sure that he fastened her shoe just a split second after his niece triumphantly yelled "Done!"

"Oh, I almost had it!" he exclaimed in mock dismay. He picked Lizzy up as she beamed with pride.

"I beat you, I beat you!" she chanted happily. Grant grinned.

"It's these big, clumsy fingers of mine." He showed her one hand and then tickled her tummy. "You need tiny little fingers for tiny little buckles." Carelessly slipping his loafers on his feet, he headed outside with his niece in his arms, her tiny Mary Jane clad feet drumming against his side.


	3. Chapter 3

**What Truths the Light will Show**

_Disclaimer_: As per usual, I must reluctantly admit that I do not own any part of V for Vendetta in any way, shape or form.

**Chapter Three**

_vVv The Present vVv_

Evey set an armful of roses on the platform by the train. Dragging V's body into position had been less difficult than she had expected. He was not a heavy man. She took a handful of crimson roses and arranged them, one by one, around the revolutionary's body. It was an artistic sight, though a sad one. A man in black surrounded by red roses, an eternal smile upon his white, porcelain mask. The thought that this would be her only chance to see the face of the man who had touched her so deeply lingered in the back of her mind. She was tempted for a split second before deciding to leave the mask in place. As V had said, the face didn't matter. The important thing was the man beneath the face, his heart and mind and ideals.

A tear slid down Evey's pale cheek as she placed the final rose. She kissed his forehead and smoothed a strand of synthetic black hair away from the mask. As she turned away Evey's eyes fell upon the control panel for the train. A single domino, red on one side, black on the other, sat perched on top of the mechanisms. It had undoubtedly been left by V, but for what purpose? It was a symbol of some sort, one that she would never understand. After stepping onto the platform, she reached a hand into the train and grasped the lever…

**Author's note: Yes, this is really short. I had originally wrote the first chapters as a long text and broke up the chapters whenever I switched from past to present. The next chapter is longer.**

**Reply to Pandora de Romanus' comment "But… isn't he a bit old?" I seriously considered making Grant even older (early thirties), but in the end decided on 27. I plan on having him get arrested within the same year, and he will spend a few years in Larkhill (I assume, I don't know exactly how long he was imprisoned there), making him 30.**

**In the movie, V once told Evey that he had been planning his revenge for 20 years. He could have been literal or he could have just been rounding up numbers. Let's assume he's literal. Also, I used to assume that he started planning his revenge _after_ having escaped from Larkhill. After further consideration, I decided that it is possible that V's "20 years" of plotting could have commenced _while_ he was still a prisoner in Larkhill.**

**Hm… this risks turning into a debate, and I kinda don't want to bother people with that. Keep in mind, this is my interpretation of V's life given my limited knowledge of the fandom. If anyone knows where I can find exact info on this point, please let me know. In the end, my V is, at most, in his early 50s (but takes good care of himself grin). As I happen to like older men, this works for me (I'm almost exactly a year younger than Natalie Portman). Plus, this is V we're talking about… do most of his fans care if he's a tad old? I personally don't, and would still hug him and make him cookies even if he was 100. :D**

**Uh… just realized this sounds defensive. I would like to thank Pandora, and everyone, for feedback and constructive criticism, which includes pointing out details like this. In truth, I didn't realize exactly how old I was making V when I wrote about Grant. I would like to ensure Pandora that I am not attacking her comment, merely that I am attempting (rather poorly) to explain my decision. I wouldn't be taking so long to explain if I didn't think that Pandora had a good point somewhere. :D**


	4. Chapter 4

**What Truths the Light will Show**

_Disclaimer_: As per usual, I must reluctantly admit that I do not own any part of V for Vendetta in any way, shape or form.

**Forgive me for the lack of updates recently, I would have updated a few days ago had the site not conspired against me (ie: refused to let me log in) and wackiness ensued over the weekend…**

**Chapter Four**

_vVv The Past vVv_

The initial excitement of meeting extended members of the family had worn out a couple of hours ago. Grant had smiled and made polite remarks to people's comments of how much he had grown and how handsome a young man he had become. Everyone was amazed at his ability to remember their names from the last family reunion, held years ago. He had always been in the habit of carefully associating names to faces, ever since he had realized how much it impressed people. Grant chatted politely with various aunts and uncles, only faltering slightly when someone had utterly insisted upon calling him Wilbert, the name of his long-dead grandfather.

After making his dutiful rounds, he took up his unofficial role at all of these gatherings; entertaining the children. It gave the adults a well-needed break and, most importantly, it amused both him and the kids. After scrounging for an old beach ball, he had spent a couple of hours playing the children's favorite games and even helping them invent a few of their own. Their new games often ended with him at the bottom of a dog-pile, laughing. It was while he was knocked on his arse and covered in little cousins and fresh grass clippings that his life changed forever.

"And last but not least, this is Grant, Rose's grandson, Emily and Mark's youngest child," one of his elderly aunts remarked. "Grant, dear, I don't believe you have ever met Lisa, have you? She was married to your second cousin William, may he rest in peace. And this is her new fiancé, Gabriel."

Grant looked up at the couple, suddenly self-conscious. Clothes in disarray and dirtied, face flushed and sweaty from exertion, hair mussed up and with bits of grass sticking in it. God, he must have looked a complete idiot. He was both embarrassed to be found lying on the ground and grateful for the fact at the same time. Had he been standing, the sight of the warm, honey-brown eyes gazing bemusedly at him would have made his knees give out. Grant took a moment to compose himself, under the guise of squirming out from underneath the mass of children.

"A pleasure," he stated breathlessly, extending his hand out to the newcomers. "Forgive me; playing with the children has left me a bit short of breath." He shook one hand, then the other, a frisson of excitement and anxiety coursing through his body as his hand contacted the other's. The group laughed and chatted, hopefully naturally, for a few brief moments. In that short time, Grant was completely undone. He was mesmerized by the warm eyes, by fine wisps of light brown hair that framed a smooth, pale face. A low, cultured voice hummed delightfully in his ears so that the pleasure of the sensation almost drowned out the words. The speaker was intelligent and calm. Grant hoped that he hadn't appeared too mesmerized by the movements of their supple lips.

Oh, God, what is happening to me? Grant agonized much later as he stood by the punch bowl. This is wrong, this is so bloody wrong. He tried to rationalize the situation, telling himself that the heat and exertion of the day were making him imagine things. The fact that he was overtired from his recent work on his master's thesis and from staying up all last night to read did not help matters. It is nothing, he decided with a firm finality. My mind is just playing tricks on me. Nothing more. He helped himself to another glass of orange punch, gulping it down in seconds. God, he was thirsty.

"Planning on draining the punch bowl, are we?" a low voice teased. Grant jumped and fumbled the cup. He had, quite mercifully, just swallowed his mouthful of drink, and therefore was spared the embarrassment of spraying it all over the place in shock.

"Contemplating swimming in it, actually," he replied, hopefully airily. "All this chatting and playing with the children has left me quite parched."

"And quite looking like a piece of shrubbery." The other looked pointedly at his hair. Grant flushed, realizing self-consciously that there must have still been bits of grass and twigs caught in his hair. Then he smiled cheekily, refusing to let himself be embarrassed any further.

"All part of my disguise," he confided. "I've had a very tiring day, and I figure that if I can blend in enough with the landscaping, I'll be spared any further strain on my voice and body." He put a finger to his lips in a silent entreaty that his secret not be revealed.

Grant's boyish teasing was met with an utterly blank face. His smile faltered and his heart plummeted inexplicably. His joke had backfired, and made him look even more foolish. The other leaned in and whispered seriously, "So, I imagine I must look very foolish to everyone; standing here and talking to a shrub." They looked at each other and shared a smile.

Oh, God. Stop this, stop this now. People will see, they'll know. This isn't appropriate; this person is to be married soon. His new friend seemed to be totally oblivious to his inner turmoil. "I've been making some new acquaintances here. I hear that you are currently writing your master's thesis on comparative iconology." Ah, good. Normal conversation. Grant switched to this new topic with ease.

"Yes, focusing mainly on the religious symbols and icons of the late Mesopotamian culture and how they have been adapted or transformed into icons that we see today." They chatted smoothly for quite some time, amazing Grant at how intelligent and keen this person was. Suddenly, the bombshell was dropped.

"Actually, I was inquiring because a friend of mine has also done quite a bit of study in ancient cultures, not Mesopotamian specifically, but he does have some interesting viewpoints about ancient icons and symbols."

"You didseem to know a fair bit about the subject," Grant admitted. The other smiled.

"I've just picked up bits and pieces of knowledge from listening to my friend rant. He's quite passionate about it. He's actually doing a lecture at King's College and I thought it might be of interest to you." Grant nodded and murmured an affirmative answer. "Well, I had also promised to go to provide moral support; this is my friend's first university lecture. I was actually hoping to avoid sitting alone in a crowd of people I don't know with an utterly blank look on my face." Grant's heart thudded in his chest. "Perhaps we could meet an hour before the lecture and you can give me a crash-course in the subject?"

"I'd hate to bore you," Grant spluttered, searching for an excuse in spite of himself. He both longed for and dreaded the thought of a more personal meeting with this person.

The other laughed. "My friend is a bore, actually. And rather pretentious. But you explain the subject so well and are easy to talk to." Both could sense that they were entering into dangerous territory, but were drawn to it anyways. Grant couldn't think of any more excuses to turn down such an obvious invitation, and didn't really want to anyways. They chatted some more, decided the where and when of it all before parting ways. It all looked so innocuous, two new acquaintances planning on a meeting before attending a university lecture. Grant knew better.

He turned to leave and raised a hand in parting. "I will see you on Tuesday then." The other smiled and nodded. "It was nice meeting you, Gabriel."

**Author's note: Hm… I tried to hide the fact that Grant was talking to (flirting with?) Gabriel until the end of the chapter. I hope it didn't make the writing seem a bit stilted. I didn't even want to let on that Grant was somewhat infatuated with a man. Well, at least they're not family.**

**Also, I just bought the graphic novel yesterday and am almost finished reading it. V is _really_ insane. I love it and am creeped out by it at the same time. If the thought of an almost-50 year old V _really _bugs you, feel free to use the comic timeline: only 4 or 5 years had passed between the escape from Larkhill and V's rescue of Evey. However, this will mean that Evey is only 16 and, considering what I may decide to do with the pair later… I kind of prefer to have V being middle-aged and Evey being of _legal_ age.**


	5. Chapter 5

**What Truths the Light will Show**

_Disclaimer_: As per usual, I must reluctantly admit that I do not own any part of V for Vendetta in any way, shape or form.

**Chapter Five**

_vVv The Present vVv_

Months after V's death found Evey in very much the same place she had been on the night she met him; skirting through the streets after curfew. Oh, she was a very different person now, and no longer felt the fear she had that fateful day. For one thing, curfew was more of a word than an actual policy. People were defying it more and more with the passing time, and there were almost no consequences for being out of the house after dark. Perhaps the few people left of Sutler's Fingermen understood that the public would no longer tolerate the imposed curfew. Thanks to this new public opinion, it was sometimes more dangerous to be the arrester than the arrested these days.

There were still dangers to being out alone this late. They were very much the same dangers as a woman walking alone at night faced before curfew was introduced. Robbers, rapists, killers; some of whom hid behind an all-to familiar mask. It sickened Evey to learn that the masks V had given the people to help them hide their fear and protect them from a corrupt government were now being used to protect criminals from being identified by their victims. Still, V remained a hero, and anyone caught using his face for less-than-heroic purposes were dealt with very harshly indeed. The people would not allow the reputation of their icon to be sullied in such a way.

Evey continued through the alleyway on her way to meeting Detective Finch. The two had taken to talking quite a bit about recent events and their plans for new London. It was wonderful to see the transformation in the policeman's demeanor since the fifth of November. He stood taller, smiled more easily and was obviously feeling a new sense of pride and confidence. No more squirming under the thumb of Sutler, Finch had finally realized his true purpose on the force.

Had there been even the slightest bit of noise in the night air, Evey never would have heard the sounds of another person in the alleyway. A rustle of clothing, a soft footfall against the pavement. She paused and shoved her hands beneath her jacket, searching for her weapons; the usual pepper-spray, for your every-day nuisance, and a knife (one of V's) to be used as a further deterrent. The footsteps ceased, but Evey knew that someone was still watching her from the darkness. Less than a year ago, she would have run away or cowered in the dark, begging not to be hurt. There would be none of that tonight.

"Who's there?" she challenged. Unafraid, she turned towards where she last heard the footsteps. "I don't like playing games. If you don't mean me harm, step into the light and show yourself to prove it. If you stay in the shadows, I'm coming to get you." Several seconds passed in silence. "Right then," Evey said briskly. She strode purposefully towards the stranger.

Instead of running as she had expected, her stalker had stepped into the light. Evey was enraged beyond words. Letting go of her pepper spray, she wrapped her lean fingers around the knife hidden beneath her coat. "How dare you?" she hissed. "How _dare_ you wear that?" Standing there, seeing that smiling, friendly, familiar visage and knowing that a stranger's eyes stared back at her… it infuriated Evey beyond belief.

The man in the mask remained silent, apparently unaffected by the young woman's rage. He merely cocked his head and stood fast against her ire. "You bloody coward, how _dare_ you wear that mask," she advanced on him. "Take it off now! At least have the courage to show your face! You don't deserve to wear _his_ mask. Damn you!" The stranger stepped forward and slid his hand into his jacket.

Evey tensed, not with fear, but with anticipation. That a common thug would wear this face was a travesty, and the new Evey would not allow her beloved's memory to suffer this insult. She stalked towards the villain as he withdrew his hand from his coat and pulled out…

_No… it can't be. This is impossible!_ Shock, hope and disbelief mingled in Evey's widened eyes.

The man before her held out a beautiful, red rose. A Scarlet Carson.

"I have given away many few of these," a familiar voice exclaimed, "but never to someone I cared about." He slid the flower's stem into Evey's trembling fingers. She struggled for breath, much like someone who had been drowning in a lake and had just burst free to the surface. Tears streamed down her face.

The rose slipped from between her fingers. It had not yet fallen to the ground when she took her first steps towards the man in the mask.

"Oh my God," Evey gasped. "Oh my God, oh my God…" She flung her arms around the man's neck and pressed against him. Gloved hands barely touched her sides, then slid around to her back and held her close. "Oh my God," she repeated tearfully. "_V_."

**Author's note: I couldn't let him stay dead… I just couldn't. I'm too much of a sucker for romance and happy endings and all that jazz. Forgive my sappy, romantic, optimistic tendency to raise the dead but V is just too charming and charismatic and ADORABLE to be left for dead. In fact… never mind… I _refuse_ to apologize. I'm not sorry. I am happy and I know it! claps hands I may or may not explain how in a couple of chapters. If you want an immediate explanation (albeit, a _very_ unlikely one), go see my profile.**


	6. Chapter 6

**What Truths the Light will Show**

_Disclaimer_: As per usual, I must reluctantly admit that I do not own any part of V for Vendetta in any way, shape or form.

**Chapter Six**

_VvV The Past VvV_

Grant nervously passed a hand through his short brown hair as he strode towards the phone. _This is ridiculous_, he thought viciously. _Utterly ridiculous. I'm preparing to make a phone call, not to bloody wage war with an invading army._ Then why did he still feel so nervous?

There was absolutely no reason to feel this anxious. He was merely going to make a phone call to cancel a planned meeting with a man he barely knew and to whom he owed absolutely nothing. True, it would be rather rude of him to phone and cancel mere hours before he was meant to meet Gabriel, but that mattered very little at the moment.

The fact of the matter was, Grant had been vaguely dreading this arrangement since a few hours after he had agreed to it. He would have to think up some sort of excuse, of course; a last minute emergency or illness or something of the sort. The little white lie wouldn't matter and would be much kinder than admitting that he didn't want to go because…

Because why?

In truth, because he was afraid. The intense emotional pull that he had felt towards Gabriel was horribly frightening both in its intimacy and in the social consequences. Grant hated admitting the possibility that he could be attracted to another man, and even worse, to the fiancé of his cousin through marriage. It was craziness!

And the thing was, right now, it was easy to pretend that it was just him being crazy or being foolish. While he was out going about his usual routine and chatting with his friends, it was so easy to believe that what he had felt for the other man was of no consequence, that it was just an absurd flight of fancy or a reaction to too much heat and sun and stress.

But what if it wasn't? When his mind wasn't occupied, Grant often found himself caught unawares by lingering thoughts of Gabriel's startling green eyes, his easy smile and his poise. The man was clever and charming, confident and beautiful… God, it was an irresistible combination for any woman, and apparently for some men as well. Grant had never considered himself to be a homosexual; he had always been _very_ attracted to women, thank you very much. But the fact that he was feeling that same sort of attraction towards another _man_ was… unsettling to say the least.

The phone rang, jarring the man out of his train of thought and making him jump. His heart pounded frantically as he berated himself for being such a prat.

"Hello?" he said into the receiver, his voice sounding a little more breathy than he would have liked. _Calm down, man, calm down._

A smooth, calm voice on the other end replied, "Hello, is this Grant?" It took him a moment to recognize the voice. When he finally did, his heart skipped a beat, and then started pounding furiously.

"Ah, Gabriel. To what do I owe the pleasure?" Grant instantly cursed himself for the words that tumbled out of his mouth. God, how much more idiotic could he possibly make himself sound?

"There's no pleasure, I'm afraid. I actually called with a bit of bad news…" he started calmly. _He's called to cancel,_ Grant thought with a sinking feeling of disappointment. Before he could even stop to think about how absurd he was about the situation, seeing as he was just about to ring up Gabriel for the exact same reason, the voice on the phone line continued.

"I've just received news from a friend that the restaurant where we were to meet has been shut down due to health code violations, so it appears we have to think of someplace else to get together." Grant remained silent for a moment; a bewildered look was on his face. "Hello? Are you still there?"

Grant blinked and shook his head slightly. "How did your friend know it was closed?" There was a brief chuckle on the other end.

"She was the one who did the inspection of the premises. Apparently, I don't _want_ to know why it was closed, especially since I used to go there quite often for lunch. I was actually thinking we could go to a nearby coffee shop instead. It offers rather decent food as well; salad, soup, sandwiches, that sort of thing."

"I don't know," Grant replied. _Say no, say no, you've changed your mind,_ a voice in his head insisted. Then he smiled at the silence on the line. "I mean, I really must question your choice of restaurants. Did you ask your friend if this coffee shop was safe, or is it as dodgy a place as that restaurant of yours?"

"She said the place was fine, thanks for the vote of confidence. God, are you always such a tease?" The voice managed to be both playful and exasperated. Grant started slightly, his face flushed. God, it was true. In his own twisted way… he was actually flirting with this man.

And he didn't even realize it. It just felt sort of natural. _Good heavens…_

"So," he tried to ask nonchalantly, "where exactly is this place?"

_VvV Later, in the coffee shop VvV_

In Grant's humble opinion, the meeting with Gabriel had been going well for the first little bit. They chatted amiably about the weather, and then segued quite nicely into the topic at hand; ancient cultures. It was a bit difficult to get the conversation started, as they really had no idea what topics Gabriel's friend would be discussing. In the end, Grant stuck to his area of expertise.

It turned out that Gabriel was an amazingly easy man to talk to. He was a very attentive listener and had a way of looking at you without staring too intensely. Grant hardly ever found himself getting distracted from the conversation. But still…

Every so often, Grant caught himself gazing just a bit too long as Gabriel savored his drink or brushed a few soft, light brown strands of hair from his face or getting lost listening to that low, mellow voice. The absolute worst was when he had been drawing a symbol on a notepad and was demonstrating the meaning. Gabriel had shifted the chair closer and leaned over, his shoulder brushing up against Grant's arm, their hands almost touching.

Grant was jolted out of his train of thought when Gabriel let out a low, bemused chuckle. He leaned over the table.

"Don't look now, but that old bird there has been sending us the nastiest looks for the past ten minutes," he whispered, his breath tickling Grant's ear. Gabriel's soft, shoulder length hair brushed briefly against the side of Grant's face. It was a struggle not to get lost in dangerous thoughts.

He shook his head slightly and fought the urge to peer over his shoulder. "Why? What are we doing?"

Gabriel merely smiled wickedly. "She seemed _particularly_ upset when I leaned over and whispered in your ear just now."

_Oh._ A treacherous blush suffused his pale skin. The object of his affection just smiled even wider, obviously finding the whole thing terribly amusing. Under normal circumstances, Grant would have done as well. But now… the woman's assumptions about him just hit a bit too close to home.

"I shouldn't laugh, you're embarrassed. I'm sorry."

"No, don't be. I'm just… caught off guard by it, is all." There was the sound of chair legs scraping against the tiled floor, then the woman walked past their table towards the door. Grant risked a glance up at her, only to see that she was glaring directly at him. She was a picture of disapproval with her brow deeply furrowed, thin lips tightly pursed.

They watched silently as she trotted out the door. A few seconds passed before both men broke into peals of laughter. "Oh God," Grant gasped, leaning on the table and holding his side. "She looked _so_ utterly annoyed!"

"She looked like she ate a lemon!"

"We should have blown her a kiss," Grant chuckled as he reached for his coffee, then took a sip. Gabriel smiled wickedly and leaned over to whisper in his ear.

"We should have given her a heart attack and kissed each _other_."

After several minutes of struggling to breathe between laughing and drowning on coffee, Grant reflected dimly that it was something of a small miracle that he didn't spray the whole thing all over the table.

**Author's note: Wow, this chapter was kinda hard to write. The first ones flowed so nicely, this one didn't. I hope this doesn't make the writing seem odd. Poor Grant is having such an awkward day. Should I make it so that he has a _really_ pleasant afternoon? wink wink (hm… do I dare even attempt to write mature scenes? Readers be warned, if I do try, it will probably turn out horribly.)**

**Chapter 7 is done, chapter 8 is turning out to be difficult to write… sigh. Much as I hate to keep you guys waiting, I like to try to have two chapters written in advance. I'm just crazy like that.**


	7. Chapter 7

**What Truths the Light will Show**

_Disclaimer_: As per usual, I must reluctantly admit that I do not own any part of V for Vendetta in any way, shape or form. But V himself will be mine. (A la Wayne's World) He will be mine, oh yes, he will be mine.

Author's Rant: Holy Christ behind the couch! I've just looked at some of my previous chapters on for the first time… I had NO idea how short they really are when they get in that format. I look it the document in Word and think that it's too long and wordy, but when I see it on the site, I realize how short it really is. That in mind, I am so, SO sorry for the shortness of chapter 3.

**Chapter Seven**

_VvV The Present VvV_

The last time Evey had set foot in the Shadow Gallery, a mere week ago, she had had to force herself to stay for any length of time. Though she had vowed to herself that she would safeguard his treasures until the world was ready for them, it had been utterly painful walking alone through that place and remembering. She had smiled fondly at the statue, V's sparing partner, and lingered at some of the paintings, remembering how he had described their meanings in a loving voice. And a week ago, she had been disturbed to realize that some of her memories had faded.

Living with V, she had been fearful and, at first, ungrateful. Longing for the life left behind and worry about what the future may hold had kept Evey from truly enjoying many of the wonders the Shadow Gallery had to offer. Consequently, she had been less than attentive at times, and never fully took in some of the days she had passed with V.

In the days following his supposed death, she had cursed herself for not understanding how precious those moments with him had been. In a way, it made her feel worse to know that she had not merely forgotten many fond memories. She had, in fact, never accorded them much importance, had never taken the time or effort to commit them to memory. It had made her feel ashamed. But now…

Evey paced through the main room in the Gallery. "You're back," she said in disbelief. Turning, she looked at the masked man as if seeing him for the first time. "You're back." The initial feeling of elation had finally worn off, and she wasn't sure which emotion should take its place. "Why didn't you say anything sooner?" Her voice was slightly accusatory.

"We agreed it would be prudent not to discuss the situation until we were in a safe place, lest someone else discover my return," he replied calmly. The brown eyes regarding him narrowed in anger.

"You _know_ that's not what I meant." Perhaps rage would replace elation. "I thought you were _dead_, V! I watched you go limp in my arms, I placed you on the train, I made a bloody little _shrine_ to you there and sent you off on a farewell that I thought would please you. And then do you know what I did? After I sent your train off, after I stood on the roof and watched Parliament burn to the ground?"

"No." His voice was barely audible.

"I wept, V." She clenched her fists in anger, making crescent-moon marks on her palms. Evey's small frame trembled with emotion. "I cried so hard that I could scarcely breathe, for so long that my throat was raw and my chest and head ached. I had exhausted myself with crying, _over you_, that I couldn't even go to bed, I just curled up on the floor and finally fell asleep. And then, in the morning, I felt scared and lost. I didn't know what to do next, I had no idea what you would have wanted to happen next. But I forced myself to get up and get out of here, and I made myself continue to fight _your_ fight." Sometime during her tirade, fresh tears had started falling.

"I had hoped that you would," he finally replied. V walked towards her carefully, as one might approach a wild animal. "I knew, deep down inside, that you would have the strength and wisdom to continue on after my plan was complete. I saw it in you the first time I met you, even though you had not yet seen it in yourself." Stopping mere inches away from her, he reached up and gently cupped her face. Soft leather whispered against skin as he brushed her tears away. Smiling, she gave in and leaned against him.

"I had missed you so much," she whispered into his shoulder.

"Missed being trapped down here with an insane terrorist?" Evey realized that even though the question didn't sound serious, V was.

"You're not a terrorist." He slid away from her and walked towards the jukebox. Evey followed him as she continued. "I think there's a fine line between liberation and terrorism, but there is a difference. You gave us hope, forced us to wake up and to stop complacently accepting what was happening."

"Hmmm." V silently studied the song titles for a while longer. "Yes, I knew you would eventually understand. And I had always hoped that everyone else would understand as well." He pressed a few buttons, and then soft music wafted through the Gallery. Evey smiled as he extended his hand in an unspoken request. Stepping forward, she placed her hand in his and slid the other over his shoulder.

"What I _don't_ understand," she pressed, gazing into the mask's eyes, "is why you didn't come back. I've mourned you for over three months. I can't tell you how many times I had thought to myself 'I wish V were still here'." Evey looked down, trying to form her next question. "Why did…?" She sighed in frustration. As they continued dancing, V waited patiently for her to continue.

"Didn't you trust me enough to let me know that you were still alive?" There. It had been said. There was a sharp intake of breath, followed by a slow sigh. Evey felt the heated air of V's breath against her cheek. He held her closer, snaking his arm around her back. "Aren't you going to answer?" she asked calmly, after several minutes had passed.

"I'm thinking of how best to put this." Evey suddenly became aware that the music had stopped. V pulled back and regarded her, his head tilted. "Did you recognize that song, Evey?" he asked gently.

"No. I don't recall ever having heard it before."

"It's called 'All I Ask of You'. It was written by Sir Andrew Lloyd Webber for the musical _The Phantom of the Opera_. This was simply an instrumental version, a rather mellow version at that. I have the original somewhere."

"V," Evey begged softly. "Please, I need to know…."

"The answer to your question," he interrupted gently. "Yes. I know." Sighing, V drew away from her completely. "And the truth is, Evey, that it wasn't a question of trusting you. It was more a question of trusting _myself_. I had once brought you here and kept you with me against your wishes. I could not bring myself to do that again and yet…" he paused, looking at his clasped hands. "If I revealed myself to you, I was afraid you would feel obligated to return, even though you may not have truly wished to."

V watched in silence as Evey walked slowly to the piano bench and sat down. She didn't look at him for a long while, her eyes focused on a distant place as she contemplated his answer. A clock ticked softly in the distance. When she finally spoke, her voice was carefully neutral.

"Would you have forced me to return?"

"Never." She looked up at the mask. "I would let you know that you were welcome here, at any time. I told you once, Evey, there are no locked doors, neither going in nor out."

"But you would have liked me to return sometimes?" He simply nodded. "So I would have the same freedom that I did after…" God, how to put this? Calling it what it was, torture, here and now… it seemed wrong. "After you taught me not to fear. I don't have a problem with that. So why do you?"

"Because my being alive makes things complicated. After what has happened, Evey, can you truly walk away from me and not be plagued by the thought that I am alive, somewhere. When I thought I was dying, there was a peaceful sense of closure, for both of us, I thought. Now everything is uncertain."

Evey stood and walked purposefully towards him. Gently touching the sides of his mask, she tilted his face down, forcing him to look her in the eyes. "I don't plan to walk away, V. I am so glad to have you back. I just wish you would have let me know you were back sooner."

"I am sorry, but I had decided I couldn't do that to you. And tonight, I must admit, I only sought you out in a moment of weakness."

"Well, thank goodness for that." Evey smiled and let out a small chuckle. "We could spend hours discussing this, arguing in circles. I could get mad at you for making me mourn you and stalk out of here… I'm almost tempted to." She wrapped her arms around his slim waist, holding him close. It pleased her immensely to feel him hug her back. "But, truthfully, I'm just too happy to see you again. It's more than I had hoped for."

Closing his eyes behind the mask, V placed its lips against her temple. He could just smell the clean scent of her short hair. "And _this_ is more than _I_ could have hoped for. Thank you, Evey." He could swear he almost felt her smile against his shoulder. He could not say how long they stood together in a comfortable silence before she hummed in contentment and lifted her head.

"That leaves only one question, for now. How did you come back, V? I thought you were dead."

"Did you check my pulse?" he asked. There was an edge to the question, implying that there was more to be said.

"Oh Christ." She felt _so_ incredibly guilty. "I'm sorry, V. There was so much blood… I just assumed… I mean _no one_ could have survived that…" she trailed off, heat rising in her face. _Oh, God, what an idiot!_ She had held him in her arms and planned his send-off, made a memorial and sent him off in a bloody traveling _bomb_, and she hadn't even checked to make sure he was _actually, truly_ dead. "I'm so sorry… but I couldn't check without removing your gloves or something, and I thought you wouldn't want me to see you."

"Shhh," He hushed her, rubbing her back gently. "You were right about that last point. Besides," he ran a gloved hand over her cheek, "you wouldn't have found anything. Back at Larkhill, I remember that the doctors often had an _extremely _difficult time finding my pulse when I was at rest. My breathing could be very shallow sometimes too. In fact," he admitted mirthfully, "I sometimes took a perverse pleasure in just lying there in my cell, not responding to the guards or anyone, just to see the look of frustration on Doctor Surridge's face when she thought I had finally died."

"My God, I could have killed you, V," Evey gasped in horror. "I put you in a bloody bomb and just sent you off…" He placed a finger on her lips.

"But you didn't," he reassured her. "I came to, smashed one of the windows, leapt from the train and rolled onto the tracks, only slightly worse for the wear. I couldn't go to you right away for obvious reasons."

"But why stay away for so long? What were you doing, V?" Large brown eyes regarded him seriously. "Tell me the truth, whatever that may be." He sighed and chuckled.

"I dragged myself to one of a few alternate hiding places," he admitted softly. "I have some supplies in each place, just in case the Shadow Gallery was ever discovered by the Finger. I am ashamed to admit that I spent a bit of time sleeping and wallowing in pain. Then I pulled myself together, patched my body up the best I could and spent a great deal of time merely resting and catching up on reading." Evey's eyes widened in shock.

"You tended to your own wounds? Dug out bullets and sewed up your own skin?" she demanded incredulously. V merely nodded curtly. "V… how did you _ever_ manage that?"

"With a great deal of caution, discipline, difficulty and pain," he admitted. "And enormous amounts of scotch, courtesy of the late Chancellor Suttler's supply trains, afterwards to dull said pain." Evey had to chuckle at this last.

"That must have been very anti-climatic, all things considered." She looked at him affectionately. "You must have been bored out of your mind."

"Well, suffice to say it wasn't part of my plan."

"So what is your plan now?" He sighed and hung his head slightly.

"I don't know," he quietly confessed. A moment of uncertain silence passed before Evey pressed her lips gently against the mask's metallic cheek.

"Don't worry," she reassured him. "We'll work on figuring that out together. I promise."

**Author's Note: Wow, long chapter about nothing. Sorry to bore you all with this. Next one should be better. Don't quite know when that will be posted. I can't write and listen to music at the same time, and I've had Pachelbel's Cannon sung by the Vienna Boys Choir on repeat for the past 2 days. Mmmmmmmmm… heavenly song.**

**By the way, chapter 8 is STILL not done. Why can't I write this, dangit? It's the sex, I know it is. I'm such a prude. I'm trying, I honestly am.**


	8. Chapter 8

**What Truths the Light will Show**

_Disclaimer_: As per usual, I must reluctantly admit that I do not own any part of V for Vendetta in any way, shape or form.

**Author's rant before the fic:** 'Cause, seriously, I can't think of how to start this. This is the point where the story gets **M** for **Mature**! If you don't like mature fics **stop reading now**. I don't want to get any flames later complaining that you don't like slash, how dare I make V (Grant) have sex with a man. In all fairness, I will accept flames saying how very unsexy this chapter is, as those ones will be true. Oh well.

Also I must give a huge, huge **_Thank you very much_** to the ever-wonderful Belmont-Bellamy for giving me feedback on this chapter. She is very much t3h awesome (typo intended).

**Chapter Eight**

_VvV The Past VvV_

In the month following their meeting at the coffee shop, Grant had seen quite a bit more of Gabriel, and sometimes of Lisa. Tonight, the men had been out to see an amateur rugby game; a pass time that they both shared. Gabriel used to be a player, Grant still joined in on scrimmages every so often. As Grant drove back to the couple's flat, they started discussing the possibility of getting some friends together to form a team for a local, non-competitive league.

"What, no Lisa tonight?" Grant asked as he followed Gabriel into the apartment.

"No, she's having a girl's night out with her bridesmaids. The wedding's three months away and Lisa is getting excited and giggly about the whole thing." Grant shook his head.

"I guess you can't blame her, even if this is her second wedding. But, aren't you excited too?" He looked inquisitively at his friend.

"Well, yes, of course," Gabriel admitted. "But I'm not getting caught up in the little details like she is. Why, did you really want to get all giggly and gush over pictures of dresses and cakes? After we can make ice cream sundaes, paint our nails… it'll be great," he deadpanned. Grant let out a bark of laughter.

"Um, I'll pass, thanks. That's not really my kind of thing." Gabriel grinned broadly.

"Fine. If I were to make us some coffee, would you promise not to choke on it?" he inquired teasingly.

"Not fair!" Grant retorted, leaning against the kitchen counter. "If you recall, that was entirely _your_ fault. You should know better than to propose something like that to someone right after they've taken a mouthful of coffee. Although, it _would_ have been very interesting to see her reaction," he admitted with a grin.

Gabriel laughed as he filled the coffee pot with water. "Forget _her_ reaction, _yours_ was priceless." Always the good sport, Grant couldn't help but look back and laugh at himself. He was caught off guard when Gabriel's hand slipped over his waist and a pair of warm, soft lips met his own. Eyes widening in shock, Grant placed a hand against the man's chest, pushing him back gently. He couldn't help but notice that the flesh beneath his hand was warm and firm, obviously well-toned.

"What?" he gasped. His heart was racing.

Gabriel lowered his head, his face curtained in waves of his long, brown hair. "I'm sorry. I just thought…"

"You thought that I was gay?" Grant choked, disbelieving. _My God, is it really _that_ obvious? Has everyone seen it?_ Gabriel backed away quickly, unsure of how this man would react. How offended would he be?

"No, I'm sorry. I just thought that… Well, I thought that you looked like you were interested in me." His gaze flitted between Grant and the floor, a look of deep shame crossed his handsome features.

Still reeling, Grant grasped at the first excuse he could think of. "You're going to be marrying my cousin! I couldn't possibly… I mean, it would just be so _wrong_…"

"Lisa knows that I'm gay, Grant." He looked up to see Gabriel regarding him seriously. "Look, ours is a marriage of convenience, and Lisa knows it. I own a publishing company, Grant, and I need a lovely wife to take to dinner meetings and publishing parties. Being openly gay could ruin my career. And Lisa, well, let's just say she _really_ needs the financial support right now. We're not in an exclusive relationship, and we're both totally comfortable with that. In fact, Lisa has someone on the side right now, and I'm fine with that."

Grant blinked, trying to take everything in. It wasn't easy when half of him was screaming to get out of there, and the other half was begging for more. Quite stupidly, the only thing he could think to say was; "Is Lisa a lesbian?"

"No," came the calm reply. "She's not. But I couldn't help but notice that your first objection was the fact that I'm engaged, not the fact that I'm a man," Gabriel said shrewdly. Damn him.

"Look, the thing is… Okay, when you said I seemed to be interested in you… well, you were right. But…" He let out a nervous bark of laughter, running his fingers through his hair and pacing in the small kitchen. "But I'm not gay," he said helplessly.

Gabriel nodded his head sagely. "That's perfectly normal…" he began.

"You don't understand!" Grant banged his head against the counter. "This isn't about me being a closet homosexual and denying it! I like women, really I do. It's just…"

"I'm not saying that," he placated, raising his hands. "Look, it's not unnatural for people who are essentially heterosexual to want to experiment with someone of the same sex. And it doesn't have to be any more involved than that. I'm not asking for lifelong devotion. This can just be a pleasant night."

"Right. Really? And then what happens after tonight?"

"Everything after this point is entirely up to you," Gabriel replied, turning his back to pour two cups of coffee. "This can go as far as you want, or nowhere. If you want, you can even choose to walk out the door. I don't want to pressure you, I won't try to push you into anything."

But both men understood that it wasn't a simple question of walking out the door… that by leaving, Grant would be walking out of Gabriel's life. He would never know what may have happened here. _One must always be bold and daring_,**(1)** he reflected. "I don't even know where to start…" he confessed softly.

Gabriel approached him slowly, stopping mere inches from him. "We start wherever it feels right for you." In that moment, Grant felt as though he were 14 years old all over again; at that precarious age where girls were still gross and yet, oddly fascinating. There were similar feelings, the same agonizing mix of excitement and embarrassment and fear as when he had stood before the first girl he kissed, the same knowledge that things were changing.

As he had back then, Grant moved in tentatively, gently placing one hand on the side of Gabriel's face, more to ground himself than anything. Leaning in, he placed his lips softly against the other man's. The kiss was soft and uncertain, until Gabriel took charge, opening his mouth and gently grazing Grant's lower lip with his teeth.

He groaned and closed his eyes, leaning back against the counter and relaxing. This was a familiar feeling; a warm body against his, a deliciously moist tongue exploring his mouth, even the feel of long, silky hair against his face and hands helped Grant maintain the illusion that he wasn't really kissing a man.

The comforting effect of the lie was shattered when Gabriel leaned against him, pressing an unfamiliar hardness into Grant's pelvis. Gasping in shock, he backed up, bumping against the counter. "Grant, you need to relax. Take my word for it, this _isn't_ going to work if you don't relax." He leaned forward, his moist tongue darting out to taste the salty skin on Grant's neck. Moaning softly, Grant tilted his head back and closed his eyes.

"Let's take this to the bedroom," Gabe suggested huskily. Grant allowed himself to be led to a small room across the apartment; he let Gabe press a hand against his chest, encouraging him to sit on the bed. Nimble fingers undid the buttons on his shirt. A soft pair of lips brushed against his chest, a warm and talented tongue flicked out against his nipple, teasing it gently.

Gabe drew back slightly to take in the sight before him. Grant's light brown hair was tousled, his slightly-tanned face flushed with arousal. He panted lightly, then nervously licked his lips. _Delicious._

Eventually, the hands continued on their downward quest; undoing the last of the shirt buttons, continuing to the belt buckle. Grant gasped and stiffened as Gabriel eased the zipper down over the bulge of his erection. He was grateful that the other man was gentle about it, unlike some of the women he had slept with.

With vague memories distracting him, Grant gasped in surprised pleasure as he was suddenly engulfed in Gabriel's warm, moist mouth. His head titled back in ecstasy as the nimble and talented tongue swirled around the tip, moaned as Gabe relaxed his throat, taking all of him in. Grasping the edge of the mattress, his breath coming in short pants, he writhed in ecstasy.

Gabriel teased him slowly, drawing out the sweet, anguishing experience for an excruciatingly long time. His head bobbed rhythmically, at times pausing to swirl his tongue around the tip. A delicious heat spread through Grant's body, every moment bringing him closer to release.

Crying out wordlessly, he arched his back, toes curling into the carpeted floor, as he reached the ageless, blissful void of orgasm. No thoughts, no worries, no fear… just pure pleasure.

He flopped back onto the bed in a boneless pile, vaguely aware that Gabriel was removing the rest of his clothing. Grant watched in a post-orgasmic haze, noticing the toned muscles moving gracefully under smooth, bronzed skin as Gabriel removed his shirt. There was a dusting of dark blond hairs on his chest, leading into a line that ran down his toned stomach.

Soft waves of golden hair framed his face as he looked down on the bed at Grant. "We don't have to go any further than this," he said calmly. "It can end here, if you want. Grant sat up, considering the offer for only a moment. He had made up his mind.

He set about undoing the cuffs of his shirt, his trembling fingers fumbling slightly with the small buttons. Grant shrugged out of the garment, tossing it unceremoniously to the side. He was grateful to see that Gabe was no longer watching him, had turned away to get something out of his nightstand; it would have been too unnerving if he had watched Grant strip completely. He finished undressing while Gabe had his back turned, and threw his clothes carelessly across the room in his haste.

"This will be easier if you kneel on the bed facing the headboard," Gabe informed him as he walked towards the bed. There was a small, white tube in his hand.

"Am I getting shagged or getting arrested?" Grant half-joked. Nevertheless, he did as the other man instructed, placing his hands against the wall. His heart pounded with excitement and anxiety, the care-free afterglow of his first orgasm already beginning to fade. He gasped slightly as Gabe's fingers slid gently down his back. A firm hand laid on Grant's hip as the other man leaned in close.

"I've got some lube here, and that will make things much easier, but I'm not going to lie to you… this will hurt at first. And once you get past the pain, it will feel _extremely_ good. Just remember to relax…"

_VvV Still The Past VvV_

He rolled over languidly, if somewhat gingerly, flopping onto his back in pure exhaustion. The sweet, blissful after glow of sex was somewhat hampered, however. Had he been with a woman, Grant would have reached out to her, run his hands over her smooth, sweat glistened skin, buried his face in her hair to inhale her scent. With a woman, if things had gone well, he may have even been up for another round. However…

A vague panic set in, burning in his chest. What did this mean? He sat up abruptly, his eyes flicking around the room, searching for his clothes.

"Are you okay?" Gabriel asked, his eyes wide with concern. Grant merely muttered and nodded his head.

"Pants, where the hell are my pants?" he gasped, wandering around the room. Anything to keep from thinking about what had happened.

"Grant, talk to me. God, I'm sorry, look, I'm sorry. Are you okay, Grant?"

"You know, you're going to think it's so odd," he blathered on, still trying to turn his mind off. He yanked his shirt over his head and tried to flatten his mussed up hair. "I was actually just thinking about something I remember from when I was younger. I was at this family gathering for something… I think it was Easter Dinner or Christmas Dinner or something like that…" Gabriel shook his head and frowned. He slipped into his pants.

"Grant, what are you talking about? Just sit down and relax, okay. Just calm down a bit."

"No, it kind of is pertinent. You know how families sit around after eating and just chat after dinner? Well, one of my uncles started talking about homosexuals, how he saw them in bars and on the street and all that. He was mocking them. In fact, everyone there was just disgusted by them. And I remember sitting there and thinking to myself 'What's so bad about being gay, as long as people are happy and in love?'"

Gabriel just stood there, regarding him seriously for the longest time. Grant couldn't bring himself to look at the man, fearing that he may be disappointed or angry. Sighing, he replied, "It's a normal response to gays and lesbians, Grant. Even though we technically have the right to be open about our sexual practices, we are still hated. That's why I'm having such a hard time coming to terms with being openly gay. I can't do it, Grant." His voice was calm and level, trying not to spook Grant even further.

He chuckled ruefully, with just a tinge of hysteria. "I'm having troubles coming to terms with simply being gay. I mean, sleeping with a man once doesn't truly make me gay, does it? It's just an experiment, isn't it? Is it odd that I still don't believe that I am gay, even after this?"

"Not really," Gabriel sighed, running his fingers through his hair. "Look, I don't blame you for being confused and worried, especially considering your family and… other things. I know how difficult it can be to come to terms with something like this, Grant. I really don't blame you for freaking out"

"I'm actually hoping that my family will love me, no matter what," he replied, calming down a bit. "It's actually the political climate that bothers me now. That Norsefire party and their leader, Adam Suttler…" Gabriel let out a nervous puff of air. Grant stood in the middle of the room, nervously clasping his hands in front of him.

"Yeah, I know. They're _scary_, is what they are. I didn't pay attention to them before, back when they were one of those silly fringe parties that no one really took seriously. But now… they've gotten themselves an amazing amount of support, and they're not afraid to show that they're zealots."

"They remind me of Nazis. I don't know why nobody else sees it." Grant fell silent, contemplating the possible consequences of what he had just done. Homosexuals were now being treated as social outcasts, due in large part to the devastatingly efficient propaganda machine of the Norsefire. "And if they keep going the way they are, gaining more power…" he noticed that Gabriel had gone unusually still. He looked frightened and ashamed all at once. "Look, Gabriel… I'm sorry. I just…" he paused.

"It's okay if you regret what happened. I'm just sorry you seem to feel… well, guilty about this."

"This was my choice, Gabe… remember?" He gazed around the room, starting to feel boxed in. "Let's talk about this somewhere else." They went into the kitchen, where Grant lowered himself gently into a kitchen chair, wincing as he sat. Though Gabriel had tried to be careful the first time, his body was still sore. Gabriel wandered to the coffee maker, the coffee having brewed some time ago. He poured a cup for each of them. "I just want you to understand that I don't hate you for being gay or for what happened," Grant clarified, looking anywhere but at the other man. "You gave me every chance to walk away, and I didn't. Everything that happened… we both had a part in this."

"I don't blame you for being scared, Grant." Gabriel's voice was soft. He suddenly looked very weary. "You said it yourself… this isn't a good time to be a homosexual. Coming to terms with something like that is difficult in the best of times, but now, with the members of Norsefire spreading messages of hate about us…" he trailed off.

Grant frowned, looking at the other man for the first time since they had had sex. "Are you really so worried about that? Does that really scare you, Gabe?"

"I'm not ashamed of being gay," he said sternly, piercing Grant with a fiery gaze. "It's not sick and depraved like some people would have others believe, it's just a natural part of who I am."

"I know. I didn't mean that you _should_ be ashamed. I mean… Christ. Look, _I'm_ the one with the problem. It doesn't bother me that you're gay, really, it doesn't. The whole problem is I'm wondering if I'm gay or not… I'm confused as hell here. But I never meant to make you feel bad."

Gabriel lowered his head and chuckled softly. "Well, you're lucky. You could wake up tomorrow and decide that his whole thing was a mistake and go on living a socially acceptable life. I _know_ I'm different, but it's not the being different part that bothers me. It's the fact that there are people out there who will hate me for it. And the whole situation for me just gets worse whenever Norsefire and goddamned Suttler get more power."

"You know I don't hate you, Gabe," Grant said reassuringly. "I don't. I know that you're a decent man and you were… you _are_ a good friend." Gabriel grinned sadly, catching the slip. "As for Norsefire… just sod them, okay? Even if they end up gaining majority seats in parliament, which probably won't happen anyways… well, what's the worst they can possibly do?"

_Quotes:_

**(1)** Quoted from Belmont-Bellamy, I believe it was in a review that she sent me. Isn't she wonderful, everyone? (Seriously, read her fics, they're great.) Let us now proceed to worship her greatness by showering her in chocolate and puppies. mm…. chocolate puppies _Psst… hey, Bel? Is that a good enough reference to your quote?_

**Author's note: Sorry for all the drivel again, but you know me, I have to explain I couldn't very well write "On day, Grant woke up gay. He went to Gabriel's house, where they proceeded to shag like bunnies." I was thinking of making the ending a lot cuter and happier than the way it is now, but changed it due to some very good suggestions from the ever-wonderful Belmont (all bow before her). Cute just wouldn't make sense in this situation, as realistically, a person potentially changing their sexual orientation is a very confusing and frustrating thing. Secondly, it wouldn't fit with the tone of the story… we know there is no "happily ever after" for these two.**

**I planned on having more sex, but that's where I blanked and couldn't write again for a whole month. Perhaps more than that, even. Sorry, guys, I hit a brick wall here. 'Tis official: I cannot write sex-scenes. The mind is willing, but the descriptive factor is a BITCH!**


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